Winter Traditions
by destinyswindow
Summary: A set of oneshots that may stand alone or be read all together of Bilbo and Dwalin exploring their feelings for each other and their new relationship over the holidays.
1. Day One: Mistletoe

NOTES: This is for the Hobbit Advent Calender on Tumblr. It's a little mixed up. This was supposed to have been posted on Dec 1, but I didn't know about it then so I got a late start. Tomorrow I will be posting Day 4's prompt and I'll eventually go back and write Day's 2 and 3. There will be 25 chapters by the end of this.

This is unedited besides a quick spell check so if there are any major issues, let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks!

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Bilbo stared in growing horror at the scene before him. In the opening of the hallway that led from the Palace to the Common Dining Hall stood Thorin and Bofur. Above them, innocently hanging from the stone, was a sprig of mistletoe and to either side of the entrance way, lying in wait, were Fili and Kili. Bilbo knew he should have been suspicious when the two boys had shown particular interest in his stories when they had been discussing Midwinter Holidays and their various traditions a few weeks ago.

He _knew_ he shouldn't have told the story of the time his mother had ambushed poor, unsuspecting Bungo beneath a bunch of mistletoe when they were courting.

He _knew_ it wouldn't end well.

But he had told them anyway, and then went on to explain the whole tradition and story behind it to them.

_Where_ Fili and Kili had managed to find mistletoe when there had barely been any green grass in the desolation left behind from Smaug this past summer, was anybody's guess. Though the two had gone on a 'diplomatic mission' with a small group of soldiers to Mirkwood (read: Thorin couldn't stand them anymore and sent them to go fight spiders) recently. Bilbo assumed they could have found the parasitic plant there...maybe...

Bilbo watched Fili and Kili pounce just as Thorin and Bofur stepped beneath the plant. The two Princes gestured to the bundle of leaves and berries excitedly, large grins plastered across their faces as they explained what it was and what they were supposed to do. Judging by Thorin's thunderous expression and the way his gaze instantly snapped to the hall behind his nephews, searching, Bilbo thought he should probably employ a tactical retreat and settle for the sausages and cheese wedges he had in his room for dinner. The Hobbit and King may have made their apologies and forgiven each other, but things had never been the same since that day on the wall a little over a year ago. There had been no real closure for either of them and as such things could get tense between the two of them quickly and without warning. No doubt Fili and Kili had blabbed where they had picked up this new tradition from and it would probably be best if Bilbo avoided Thorin for a few days.

Especially when Bofur's face lit up with comprehension. The miner had a look of mischief on his face as he pulled Thorin around to face him and planted a large, no doubt wet, kiss squarely on his lips. Fili and Kili whooped and hollered and those common Dwarves who were nearby cheered. Bofur pulled back, lips quirked into a smug smirk, and winked at Thorin before sauntering off in that signature way of his. Several of the Dwarves he passed smacked him on the back while Thorin was left standing in the entrance way, still as stone as a blush crept across his face.

Bilbo stared at the King's reaction. Well...that certainly was interesting. Perhaps the boys knew more than the rest of them.

Speaking of the boys, they had taken their Uncle's shock as their chance to sneak off without reprimand. They were already to the other end of the Hall and out the main doors before Thorin regained his senses. The Dwarven King stomped his way over to the table that the company usually claimed as their own, throwing a glance to Bofur, who had decided to sit with his miner friends this evening, as he passed. Deciding it was high time he took after the boys and fled himself, Bilbo rose from his seat, only to fall back into it with a small 'oomph' when a large hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

"Sorry," Dwalin grunted, not looking a bit apologetic as he fell into the seat beside Bilbo. "Where are you off to in a hurry? Dinner's only started."

"O-oh, you know, I-I just realized that I forgot...something in my rooms. I was just going to pop over there-" Bilbo tensed, his stuttered explanation dropping off when he felt the chair on the other side of him being pulled out and a large body drop into it.

Bilbo watched Dwalin's gaze flicker from him to who he assumed to be Thorin behind him, caution and wariness making his muscles go rigid in case he had to put himself between his King and the Hobbit. It hadn't just been Bilbo and Thorin's relationship that had suffered that day. Those last few weeks of madness had been steadily driving a wedge between Thorin and his Company. The events on the gate had just been the final hammer blow in the creation of the rift between them that was slow to heal completely. Some, like Gloin, were quick to forgive and move on. Others, like Balin, had forgiven Thorin eventually, but still watched him closely for signs of the sickness returning.

Dwalin had always been Thorin's staunchest supporter but he had followed after Balin's example. He kept a wary eye on Thorin and his temper and always seemed to pay closer attention when Bilbo was around.

Ori had asked Bilbo once, why he had stuck around after the battle and all the horrible things that Thorin had done, after the Company had let him do those things. He hadn't known how to answer the scribe. The truth of the matter was that he had meant to leave. He had gone to Gandalf a week after the battle, when his head wound was healed and the headaches had stopped, asking if they could be on their way as soon as possible. Gandalf had frowned and asked Bilbo why he wanted to leave in such a hurry when he had just healed. Bilbo had listed what he thought were very good reason to be gone from Erebor but the Wizards frown had just deepened. He had tried to talk the Hobbit into staying longer, even if just a few more weeks, but Bilbo had held firm and Gandalf had eventually agreed to speak to people about arrangements. A few days later, Bilbo had searched Gandalf out, only to discover that he had already left the camp, 'on urgent business to the south' one of the Elves had said. He had just stared at the empty tent for several minutes, disbelieving and incensed that Gandalf would leave him behind like that.

Bilbo had tried to make his own arrangements but Dain and Bard could spare no men to help him across the Misty Mountains and back to Rivendell. Thanduil had offered him a place in his palace until arrangements could be made, but for some reason Bilbo couldn't bring himself to leave his friends, to abandon Thorin and Fili and Kili when they were so close to death.

Perhaps Gandalf had been more aware of Bilbo's feelings than even Bilbo had, when he had left the Hobbit behind.

"Bilbo," Thorin began and both Dwalin and Bilbo relaxed slightly. The King was only slightly irritated then. The company had been quick to pick up on Thorin's verbal cues to his mood after the battle; 'Hobbit' was used when he was in a rare good mood, 'Bilbo' for when he was neutral or somewhat annoyed, and 'Mister Baggins' meant he was angry. 'Burglar' and 'Halfling' hadn't passed Thorin's lips since that morning on the gate. Bilbo turned to Thorin, letting him know that he was paying attention. "I would appreciate it if you did not feed my nephews' imagination for games. They are rowdy enough as it is."

"Of course," Bilbo replied. "It's just, Ori had asked about Shire traditions and I got off track with a story of my Mother and Father when they were courting and I didn't realize that they were paying such close attention. Or that they would run off with the idea." He felt he had to explain his actions, that he hadn't purposefully given Fili and Kili the idea.

Thorin glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Next time, be more aware of who you are speaking to and their proclivity for pranks."

Bilbo hung his head and slumped in his seat, idly pushing food around on his plate. After everything that had happened, he still hated disappointing Thorin. But most of all, he hated himself for still caring about what Thorin thought of him. He just couldn't bring himself to completely cut the Dwarf from his life, even though he had every right to.

"Ach, ease up on him Thorin," Dwalin grumbled around a mouthful of potato. "Poor thing's so far from home still. Of course he's going to take to anyone who will listen about The Shire." He reached out and ruffled the hair on top of Bilbo's head, frizzing the curls.

Looking up at the giant of a Dwarf through his fringe, Bilbo smiled. He liked it when Dwalin let others see how gentle and sweet he could be instead of always hiding behind the warrior persona. Of course the gruff, battle hardened warrior was just as much a part of who Dwalin was as this softer side, but sometimes Bilbo wished he didn't feel like he had to hide it so much. It had taken the Hobbit quite some time to see behind the mask and gain his trust enough to see it.

"You weren't the one who was ambushed by Fili and Kili underneath a bunch of leaves and berries with Bofur," Thorin grumbled. "They demanded that we kiss before they would let us through. I don't know _why_ Bofur humored them." He glanced at the miner.

Dwalin stared at Thorin for a moment, jaw slack. "Bofur _kissed _you?" Thorin clenched his jaw and refused to answer, but the returning blush was answer enough. Dwalin looked to Bilbo, seeking confirmation. When he nodded, the warrior threw his head back and laughed so loud it echoed around the hall. "It's about damned time one of you made a move," he wheezed when he finally got his laughter under control. Though he couldn't quite suppress the grin. Thorin raised his tankard for a long draw of ale and didn't look at either of them. "Nori owes me gold for this. I told him you were too chicken shit to make the first move."

"You_ bet _on something like that?" Bilbo whipped around to face Dwalin, sitting up straighter. "Now I can understand betting on some things, but betting on someone's love life is just too far. It's rude and potentially hurtful."

The warrior had enough sense to look at least a little ashamed after Bilbo's berating. Thorin, though, slammed his drink on the table hard enough to make the plates jump and finally looked Dwalin in the eye. "I believe the saying for this situation is; the pot calling the kettle black."

The two held each others gaze for a moment and to Bilbo's surprise, Dwalin was the one who looked away first, shifting in his seat and glaring at his plate. He turned back to his own plate to contemplate this new information, occasionally glancing up at Dwalin who refused to look at anyone. The three of them were eventually joined by several others from the Company. When the question of where Fili and Kili were came up, the story of their prank inevitably came up too, much to Thorin's irritation. There was lots of cheering and money exchanged. Nori tried to talk himself out of owing Dwalin through technicalities but he was having none of it. The small money purse in his hands and Nori's new sour mood did wonders for Dwalin's mood, lifting it up again until he was laughing and joking with the rest of the company as usual. When he was finished with his meal, Bilbo pushed away from the table and bid goodnight to his companions.

"Hobbit, wait!" Thorin called as he was walking away. Bilbo turned back to the table, wondering what he could want. "Dwalin will go with you, there have been reports of bad rock in your area of the mountain. Wouldn't want to lose you down a hole, now would we?"

"Uh...I guess not?" Bilbo hadn't heard anything about unstable rock near his rooms. But no one was paying attention to him. Instead, Dwalin and Thorin were staring at each other. It never ceased to amuse him how Thorin could have an entire conversation with his eyebrows. Dwalin lost the silent argument and rose from the table and stomped from the hall. Bilbo hurried to catch up. "Er...were you not done? I could have waited until you were ready."

"It's fine," he grumbled.

The two fell into silence as they walked, winding their way through the corridors, hallways and grand staircases of the mountain. Bilbo had been offered elaborate rooms in the Palace with Thorin, Fili and Kili as part of Thorin's apology but he had preferred to take more modest lodgings near the Merchant District, where Dori and Gloin had chosen to settle with their families. The door to one of the many taverns that had cropped up in the past few months suddenly opened, issuing several drunk Dwarves into the semi-busy thoroughfare. Quicker than Bilbo thought possible, Dwalin's arm shot out, wrapping around his shoulders and tucking him into the Dwarf's side to avoid getting trampled.

"Thanks," Bilbo breathed. Once the group had passed, he moved to put more distance between them but Dwalin didn't remove his arm from around Bilbo's shoulders. Bilbo stared at what he could see of the large hand draped over his shoulder. He glanced up at Dwalin to find him staring resolutely ahead. He ducked his head again to hide a small smile.

It wasn't must further to Bilbo's apartment. They were almost there, just passing beneath an elaborate arch that separated the residential area from the larger corridor, when Fili and Kili suddenly jumped in front of them. Dwalin's arm quickly slipped from Bilbo's shoulders as the two blinked at the Princes in surprise for a moment before Bilbo finally understood the implications of their appearance.

"Oh no," he groaned and the grins on the boys' faces just seemed to grow.

"Guess what you two just walked under!" Kili crowed, pointing to the ceiling.

Bilbo tilted his head back and saw the bundle of leaves hanging above his head. Just how much of the stuff had they managed to find? He never should have told that blasted story.

"Did you boys hang it everywhere?" Bilbo questioned.

Fili shrugged his shoulders, "Just where we thought we'd be able to catch Company members."

"More like where ever we could reach," Kili muttered.

He had a point. There weren't a lot of places in Erebor where the ceiling was easy to reach. Most areas had columns climbing to impossible heights above their heads to support the ceiling.

"So," Bilbo heard Fili start. "You two know what you need to do. Get with the kissing and we'll let you on your way."

Bilbo was too busy staring at the mistletoe, wondering how they had gotten it up there, to really pay attention to what was being said.

"You two will be moving if you knew what was good for you."

The ceiling here might be much lower than in other parts of the mountain, but it was still fairly high.

"It's just a little kiss. Even Uncle participated!"

In fact, he could only barely make out the red glint of the berries in the firelight.

"Are you really going to ignore Bilbo's traditions like this? After all he did for us? And being so far from home?"

Wait...red?

"Don't you go twisting this around into some sort of sympathy deal for Bilbo. You brats are just looking for cheap entertainment."

Bilbo took a closer look at the plant and noticed that the berries clinging the spiky edged leaves were red, not white.

"How dare you imply that-"

"Do you boys realize that that is not mistletoe?" Bilbo interrupted, tilting his head down again to watch Fili and Kili's reactions.

Everyone blinked at him a few times.

"What?" both brothers asked in unison.

"That," Bilbo pointed up, "is not mistletoe. It's holly."

"But you said it would be an evergreen. And have berries. That was all we could find!" Kili threw his hands up in disbelief.

"Well, yes. Mistletoe is an evergreen and it has berries. But it's leaves have smooth edges and the berries are white. That up there was pointy leaves and red berries. It's holly. Did everything that you grabbed look like that?"

Fili paled while Kili nodded. "I don't suppose mistletoe and holly are interchangeable in the tradition, are they?" the older Prince asked.

"I'm afraid not boys. Different plants, different meanings, different traditions."

Next to Bilbo, Dwalin watched the proceedings, a grin spreading across his face. "Just wait until I tell Thorin that you didn't even bother to get the right plant," he rumbled, taking pleasure in the horror stricken faces of Fili and Kili.

"I-I-I-I-" Kili stuttered, trying to find some way out of their predicament.

"I just remembered that we were assigned to leave with a group soldiers to help the elves with their pesky little spider problem in the morning," Fili came to the rescue. "We should really be heading to bed now. Gotta be up early." He took Kili by the arm and steered him away. Once the two of them were out in the corridor, they broke into a sprint, heading away from the Palace and their Uncle.

Bilbo watched with some amusement. "What do they do when they go to Mirkwood?" He turned to look up at Dwalin. "I really don't like the idea of them being around those spiders again."

"Not much from what I'm told." Dwalin shook his head. "They're too busy trying to annoy that pompous king of theirs."

Bilbo gave Dwalin a sly look. "You mean Fili is too busy annoying them. Kili would be mooning over Tauriel."

"Ach, don't remind me of that!" Dwalin slipped his arm back around Bilbo's shouders as he feigned disgust and guided the Hobbit towards his rooms a few doors down the hall.

Bilbo grinned, enjoying the playful mood. "There is nothing wrong with her. She's a perfectly, delightful Elf. I think she'd be a good match for Kili."

"Don't let Thorin hear you say that."

"Oh never." Bilbo said flippantly as he moved forward to dig his key from his pocket. Dwalin stood to the side, facing him. "Wouldn't want him to think that I was the one to put the idea in Kili's head."

Just as the door swung open with a faint squeak, Bilbo felt the soft press of lips and wiry hair against his cheek. He jerked away in surprise and raised a hand to where he could still feel Dwalin's kiss seared into his skin. Dwalin watched his reaction intently and Bilbo could feel a deep flush spread across his face at the look.

"You know there's no mistletoe in my doorway, right?" Bilbo said, partly to break the heavy tension that had settled in the air and partly because he didn't understand. He had hoped (oh how had _dared_ to hope) but he had never expected anything beyond the easy friendship that they shared now. He had started to think that Dwalin was one of those dwarves who chose to devote themselves to their profession rather than seek out the companionship of a lover. "You didn't have to do that."

The intensity of Dwalin's gaze hadn't lessened any. Bilbo fidgeted under the scrutiny and looked away. Dwalin took Bilbo's hand, his much larger hand engulfing Bilbo's, and gave it a squeeze. "I know," he said softly. The tone made Bilbo turn back to him, confused. When he was facing Dwalin again, the Dwarf gently pressed his forehead to Bilbo's. "I wanted to. Just like I want to do this." He tipped his head just right to lightly press their lips together.

The kiss was quick and chaste and Bilbo reveled in the feel of Dwalin's lips against his and his beard scratching against the sensitive skin around his mouth. He thought that maybe it was just a little bit perfect. Dwalin pulled back first, taking a moment to let his eyes rove over Bilbo's face.

"Goodnight Bilbo," Dwalin murmured, smiling as he gave the hand in his another squeeze.

Bilbo smiled back at him. "Goodnight Dwalin."

He went to bed that night, grinning and giggling like a love struck tween.


	2. Day Four: Snow Fall

This is unedited. I'm not really all that happy with it, but oh well. I've seen the idea that Hobbits need sunlight to survive and get really sick if they go too long without it in several places but I credit Moonrose91(on AO3) for introducing me to the headcanon with her wonderful works.

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The snow fell slowly in fat, wet clumps onto the mountain side and the plains below. The world was painted in shades of cool greys, reflected from the grey, snowfilled clouds. Bilbo sighed, snuggling further into his scarf as he watched the fluffy flakes swirl around him from the bench on his balcony. The teacup in his hands had gone cold long ago but he couldn't bring himself to move inside for a fresh cup.

The balcony was the one thing he had insisted on when moving into the mountain. After the havoc that two months of sun deprivation had wrought on Bilbo's health after they had finally escaped from Thranduil's dungeons, Thorin was quick to find him a set of suitable rooms with easy access to the outside. He had offered to have a portion of the wall removed and replaced with glass doors and windows to let the sunlight into the sitting room but Bilbo had refused, reasoning that the draft would be horrible to deal with in the winter.

Bilbo spent most of his mornings after first breakfast on his little balcony, drinking tea, tending to his little planter boxes that Bofur had made for him, or reading one of the books from the Library. One or more of the Company would show up in time for a bit of second breakfast and some tea. This morning though, Bilbo was lost in memories of Bag End and The Shire at this time of year, all it's gentle hills covered in snow. If he tried hard enough, he could almost pretend that he was sitting in his cozy little smial, watching the snow fall from his favorite chair next to the window. If he really put his mind to it, he could still hear his mother's quill scratching against the parchment as she wrote her daily letters in the study and his father puttering about the kitchen putting together a tray of tea and buscuits for the three of them.

A loud knock at the inside door startled Bilbo, interrupting his reminiscing. He hurried back into his apartments, setting his cup on the table next to the pot. Still dusting snow from his shoulders, he pulled the door open to find Dwalin standing there, carrying a small reed basket that the widows and orphans of Dale often sold to support themselves.

"Oh, is it time for second breakfast already?" Bilbo asked as he stepped back to let Dwalin in.

Setting the basket on the little round table next to the fireplace in the sitting room, Dwalin turned back to the Hobbit, a frown marring his face. "Actually I'm late," he informed Bilbo, who followed him into the room. He took in the snow that was just starting to melt in the other male's hair and the furred coat and scarf he was wearing. "What were you doing?"

"Just sitting outside while I drank my morning tea." Bilbo pulled the cloth off the top of the basket to reveal several scones, no doubt made by Bombur using his recipe, along with some fresh butter and a small jar of the fruit preserves that had been imported from the West.

"Outside!" Dwalin's voice rose a bit in his disbelief. He stared at Bilbo as he moved to a side cabinent to pull out two plates. "But it's snowing!"

"I know. Isn't it lovely?"

The old warrier gaped at him for a moment before grabbing up one of his hands. "How long were you out there? You're freezing!" he demanded.

"Not long at all," Bilbo informed him. "Just because I don't retain heat like you Dwarves."

Dwalin opened his mouth to protest some more but Bilbo gave him the look. The one that said that he wasn't going to listen to anyone berate him for acting like a Hobbit instead of a Dwarf. He quickly snapped his jaw shut and busied himself with making his plate, slathering butter and preserves on his scones in heaping amounts. There was a hot cup of tea waiting for him when he was done and as he was reaching for it, he noticed that there was another, nearly full cup that had gone cold. Dwalin wondered over it for a moment before joining Bilbo at the little table and chairs he had set up on his balcony.

It wasn't nearly as cold as he thought it would be, just a bit chilly but there was no wind to make it unbearable. He must have shivered though because Bilbo made a little noise, disappeared into his apartment and returned a moment later with a heavy quilt that he threw around Dwalin's shoulders.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you." Bilbo rolled his eyes fondly at the crumbs that flew everywhere when he tried to speak with a full mouth.

As Dwalin ate with his usual gusto, Bilbo stared out into the grey world, watching the snow fall and occasionally nibbling on his scone. It still surprised him sometimes, how fiercely the Company could worry about him. It had been so long since people in The Shire had actively cared about him instead of his money. The sound of Dwalin clearing his throat caught his attention and he turned his head back to his guest. His plate and teacup were already empty and Bilbo wondered how much time he had lost staring out into the void.

"I noticed you didn't really drink your morning tea either."

Sometimes he cursed the Company's annoying habit of noticing the little details. Though he supposed that he should be glad it was Dwalin and not Nori, who would have noticed the cold cup of tea as soon as he walked in the room and immediately started to question him about it. For it was common knowledge that Bilbo Baggins did not let a cup of tea go cold.

Bilbo pointed took a large drink from his cup. "I might have gotten a bit distracted. Lost in memories and such," he tried for an uneffected tone, but failed miserably.

The look Dwalin gave him made that obvious. The Dwarf waited patiently but expectantly for him to go on.

"Mother used to love this time of year," Bilbo finally said softly. He wouldn't look up at his guest and busied himself with brushing snow off the table instead. "Bag End would be decorated from top to bottom and there was always a party to go to. There was never a lack of company near Yule time. But everyone stopped coming by for visits when Mother and Father died."

Dwalin reached across the table to take one of Bilbo's hands in his and give it a squeeze. They all knew how he had practically been abandoned by his friends and family once his parents had passed. And they all made an effort to remind him that he would't be forgotten here, not by them. A small smile found its way onto Bilbo's face. He flipped his hand over so he could hold Dwalin's hand too and gave it a returning squeeze.


	3. Day Six: Bells

This chapter might be a little choppy. Trying to write and manage several kids makes for a very disjointed thought process. Yesterday's prompt is about a quarter written but I didn't get to finish it because I had to pack and other things for my weekend at my parents' babysitting. I'm going to try to finish it today sometime and get it up. So cross your fingers for a double update today.

As usual, this is unedited. Feel free to point out any major errors.

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Bilbo snuggled further into Dwalin's side, curling his large feet beneath him and propping a book on his lap. Ori had said it was one of their more romantic epics when he had borrowed it and at first, he had been skeptical. But after a week of not being able to put the book aside he had to admit that it was on par with some of the Elves' poems. Dwalin shfted to find a better angle to card his fingers through Bilbo's hair. It had grown longer the past few months since Bilbo didn't have enough time to keep up with regular trimmings.

Dwalin liked to play with The Hobbit's curls now that they were longer, pulling and separating and wrapping them around his thick fingers. Occasionally, once Dwalin had left, Bilbo would find braids in his hair that he would huff about as he plucked them apart. But he was always sure to slip the ribbon that had been tied to the end into a box in the nightstand drawer. Tonight was no different, with Dwalin slipping his hand into Bilbo's hair almost as soon as he had settled against the bigger Dwarf.

A clock chime caught the Hobbit's attention, making him turn his head automatically to check the time. He froze in place at the unfamiliar weight in his hair and the tinkling sound when he moved his head.

"What- what did you do?" Bilbo turned back to Dwalin, setting off the ringing again as the little bits settled against his head.

Dwalin's beard twitched, like he was trying desperately not to smile...or laugh. Though the glint in his eye did not look amused as much as looked predatory. "Just thought you'd like a little decoration. It's a common thing for Dwarrows to do."

"Yes but as I keep telling you and everybody else; I am a Hobbit, not a Dwarf," Bilbo huffed, snapping the book shut and moving over to the looking glass on the wall near the entryway. All over his head were little braids with lengths of silver ribbon woven through and tied to the ends were tiny silver bells. There had to be at least a dozen all over his head. It was amazing that Dwalin was able to braid them in without Bilbo realizing. He stomped back over the couch to stand in front of Dwalin, hands on his hips. "And what is the point of having my hair like this?"

"Not much really. Like I said, it's decoration. Nori said he'd seen you eyeing them down at the market the other day." Dwalin flicked one of the bells near Bilbo's ear. "Silver bells for my Hobbit's golden hair."

Bilbo scoffed. "My hair is hardly golden. More like dirty dishwater. Fili's hair is golden."

Dwalin frowned at that. "There is nothing dirty about your hair," he growled. "You've never seen your hair in the firelight, or when the sun shines on it just right. It lights up like gold and copper."

A blush spread across Bilbo's face at Dwalin's description. It was true he'd never seen his hair in light from the fire or sun but he had a hard time believing that it really looked like that. Dwalin made it sound beautiful and Bilbo knew he was far from beautiful, especially compared to some of the Dwaves he'd seen around the mountain. He shook his head slightly in disbelief of his almost lover's words, only to set the bells ringing again. Scowling, he plucked one of the bells from the mass of hair and brought it forward so he could glare at it. Dwalin chuckled at the sight.

"What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to sleep when I sound like a gaggle of overeager fauntlings pulling the doorbell?" he demanded.

The grin that came over Dwalin's face was positively lascivious. He wrapped a large hand around Bilbo's smaller hip and pulled the smaller man between his parted knees. "Maybe that was the point."


	4. Day Five: Traditions

So this is the chapter that was supposed to have been posted on the 5th. The ending is crap, I wanted to actually go into detail but it started to get late and I just wanted to get it done. When I had started writing it Thursday I had planned on having a full out conversation between Fili, Kili, and Bilbo about the situation with Thorin and Bofur, but it was getting too long and once again, I just wanted to get it done. But essentially the boys, mainly Kili, are a little naive when it comes to what a King can and cannot do and how a King must present himself.

**WARNING: RITUALISTIC ANIMAL SACRIFICE IS MENTIONED** but not really described. At least not in detail.

As usual, not edited.

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"So, what is this luck...look...luk-"

"Lukhud Siginbult."

"Yes, that. What is it exactly?"

Dwalin ran a hand through his beard thoughtfully as he lead Bilbo down to the lowest levels of the mountain. "It's sort of like a ceremony, or maybe a celebration...no...not quite a celebration though there will be partying after all the official bits. I'm not really sure what you'd call it but it's tradition. It should have been done last year to properly start the forges and get everything ready for the new year. But you remember how it was." He glanced over his shoulder at the smaller man trailing behind him.

And Bilbo did remember. Dwarves from nearby settlements pouring into the mountain with little but the clothing on their backs, needing food and shelter and work; and news of even more arriving from further away come warmer months. There had barely been time to properly mourn those lost in the Battle of the Five Armies before the forges had been lit and what mines that were safe enough were opened. A few had grumbled about proper ettiquitte with these things but had been quickly silenced by the sheer need of those living in the mountain. There was simply no time to stand on ceremony for these things. Apparently they were going to be done right this season though.

"And what does this tradition entail?" Bilbo continued his questioning. The Company had dragged him into formal ceremonies unprepared one too many times and there were only so many times one could be shocked or unintentionally insulted before one started to take precautions. Cultural misunderstandings had become a common occurence between Bilbo and the Company lately.

"Didn't you ask the lads about it earlier, when you were looking for them?"

"Yes," Bilbo sighed. "but they got distracted with the topic of Thorin and didn't really answer my questions."

"Ach, those boys have been arguing with Thorin over that for months," Dwalin informed him. "They don't seem to understand the constraints he's under now that he's officially crowned."

"The social gap is a major issue," the Hobbit agreed. "I can't help but feel that this is going to end in hurt feelings all around."

"And then Thorin will take it out on those boys for pushing them together and raising his hopes."

"Sadly. But we seem to have gotten off topic as well, you were telling me about this Lookid thing?"

Several Dwarves who were close enough to hear his attempt at Khuzdul sent him scathing looks, hands fisting tight around the handles of weapons. The whole Arkenstone debacle had invitably gotten out to the general population and of course his involvement had been a central part of the story. No ammount of public pardons and general goodwill from Thorin could repair his imagine in the eyes of Erebor's citizens. Fortunately all direct threats and most of the grumbling were circumvented by Dwalin's presence. Though he got some nasty looks when he chuckled at Bilbo's mangling of the Dwarven language.

"Basically Thorin will say some pretty words, there'll be chanting, we'll kill a few boars for tomorrow's feast and then he'll light the First Log, to start the forge fires again," Dwalin explained as he guided Bilbo through the ever thickening crowd. "And from that new flame, the hearth fires in the dining hall and kitchens will be lit."

Bilbo thought over what Dwalin said. Most of it sounded innocent and normal enough for Dwarven practices, except for one little, "Wait, 'kill a few boars'? As in...sacrifices?"

They started to descend the final, winding staircase into the bowels of the mountain, where the main forges that heated the mountain and made the majority of the mountain's goods and weapons were located.

"Pretty much. We spill the blood on the anvil to honor Mahal so that he will bless our forges and hearths."

"Oh."

Dwalin stopped on the steps, the Dwarves behind them grumbling when they were forced to go around, to scrutinize Bilbo's face, presumably to look for any signs of distress or fainting spells. He placed a hand on one of the smaller man's shoulders, giving it a firm squeeze. "You going to be okay with that?" he asked, his forhead deeply creased in worry.

Bilbo took a moment to analyze his own feelings about this and figure out if he would embarass himself (and the Company by extension). He decided that if he didn't watch the sacrificing directly, but maybe cast his eyes to a less bloody part of the room, he would be okay. "Of course," he said confidently.

"You sure?" Dwalin asked again. "We can go back to your rooms if you're uncomfortable with this."

It made Bilbo smile that Dwalin would miss out on one of his traditions being celebrated in Erebor for the first time in over a century just because one little Hobbit was uncomfortable. "Yes. After all, you've been putting up with all of my silly little traditions, I think I should participate in yours."

Most of the frown smoothed away from Dwalin's face. He smiled at Bilbo, giving him another sqeeze of the shoulder before turning around and continuing down the stairs to the large chambers that housed the forges. The room was packed, shoulder to shoulder, with Dwarves, Thorin at the back of the hall next to a large anvil and forge. A line of boar were cornered behind him, waiting for their part in the proceedings. Bilbo took Dwalin's hand in his and laced their finges together as Thorin began with an opening speech. He soon switched to Khuzdul though for the chants and songs that Dwalin whispered were asking Mahal to accept their sacrifice and bless their livelihoods. Bilbo carefully averted his eyes when it was time for the actual sacrificing and only barely caught the silver glint of the spear as it swung through the air. After the boar carcasses had been hauled away there were a few more chants, this time from the whole assembly that echoed around the hall until it felt the mountain itself was shaking. The sound cut off abruptly as Thorin took a torch from Balin and approached the forge where what looking like a whole tree trunk, carved with runes and symbols and covered in the holly that Fili and Kili had gathered day's earlier, lay. The roar that shook the hall when the log caught fire almost immediatly would have blown Bilbo off his feet if Dwalin hadn't caught him.

Bilbo looked around at the gathered Dwarves, many of whom were still roaring their approval or had broken out into song, grabbed the nearest Dwarf and started dancing. He noticed among the rowdy celebrators that several were crying, some silently, some with their faces buried in their hands, and still others clinging to family and friends, sobbing loudly. He could only imagine what it must have been like, to feel like their creator had abandoned them, punished them for some wrong doing and now that they're home, to have the Siginbult catch fire so quickly, it must have been a good sign. A sign that their creator once again looked favorably upon them, blessed them and loved them again. What a relief that must be.

He looked up at Dwalin next to him and caught the fiery reflection of tears on his cheeks and in his beard. The sight shocked Bilbo. He didn't think he had ever seen Dwalin cry, even when they had thought that Thorin and his nephews lay on their deathbeds. Bilbo turned to the distraught Dwarf then, pulling him down while he went up on his tip toes to presh his forhead to Dwalin's. He rubbed the tears on his cheeks away and pressed soft kisses to damp skin in their wake. Dwalin clung to Bilbo, pressing his face into the crook of his neck after the last kiss and weeping. His lips moved against the sensitive skin of Bilbo's neck in what could have been a pray to the Dwarven Creator or a thanks to Bilbo himself for helping them regain the mountain, Bilbo was never sure. He just held Dwalin as tightly as he could and let him cry on his shoulder for Erebor's rebirth.


	5. Day Seven: Wrapping Paper

Totally cliche, but I don't care. And this took me way too long for me to get written considering how short it is. But things happened that took up time.

As usual, unedited.

* * *

Dwalin froze in the middle of removing his knuckledusters in his sitting room when he heard the muffled shouting from the direction of his bedroom. Grabbing one of the many axes he kept stashed around his quarters, he cautiously approached the door and put his ear to it, listening for any sounds that might give him a clue as to who was in his room. There were sounds of paper crinkling and clothe rustling along with garbled shouts, a few grunts, and even a growl. It sounded like it was only one person; one very frustrated person. Dwalin tightened his hand around the handle of his ax, holding it at the ready, and threw the door open, leaping into the room with a shout.

Bilbo stared up at him, pale faced and wide eyed.

Dwalin stared back.

And who wouldn't? Bilbo had been wrapped up in decorated paper until only his shoulders and head were visible. He had then been trussed up with silver and green ribbons, tied so tight around his arm and leg joints that he couldn't pull them apart, or move at all, really. A pretty little silver bow rested atop his curls, knocked askew in his struggle no doubt.

Dwalin had apparently stared for too long because Bilbo's startled expression had turned to a glare. Lowering the ax, Dwalin approached the bed and untied the bow the that had been knotted over his mouth. He immediately spat that ribbon out of his mouth as soon as there was enough slack to do so.

"It's about time you came home," Bilbo admonished Dwalin, as if he was left waiting while dinner grew cold instead of tied up on a bed. "I've been here for hours, hollering."

"How did you even..."Dwalin trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase this situation. He did appreciate the way the Hobbit's face turned red, whether from embarrassment or anger, though he wasn't sure.

"Fili and Kili," he growled. "They were supposed to be helping me wrap presents for the company but then they attacked me and dragged me here. I'm just glad no one saw us in the halls." Dwalin watched Bilbo struggle against his trappings, finally managing to create a small tear where his elbows should be. "Well," the bound man looked up at his companion expectantly.

"Well what?" the Dwarf blinked, feigning ignorance while he pondered if he could unwrap and disrobe the Hobbit without untying him.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and huffed, "Are you going to untie me?"

"No, no I don't think I will."

Because how was Dwalin supposed to resist his little Hobbit when he was being so fierce in his anger and utterly helpless to do anything about it?


	6. Day 10: Hot Chocolate

I'm so sorry for not updating the past few days. I haven't really been in the right headspace to write fluff, or anything really. I get low moods sometimes and it just messes up my motivation and stuff. It sucks.

You guys have all been so awesome with your comments and favorites and everything. It makes me so happy and keeps me wanting to write. The need to not let you guys down brings me out of my low moods and gets my butt in gear to write these chapters. So thanks to all of you!

You should all totally come bother me on tumblr at heartshapedkey.

Anyway, have yesterday's prompt while I hurry to finish today's. As usual it's unedited.

* * *

The door quietly clicked shut behind Dwalin after he let himself into Bilbo's apartment. The Hobbit was holed up in his study, diligently scratching away at the papers in front of him with his quill. Balin had been swamped with paper work the last few weeks and Bilbo had offered to help where he could so the old Dwarf wouldn't be so overworked. Assuming that Bilbo had been hard at work most of the day and had forgotten to take time for meals, as he sometimes did when he got immersed in his work, Dwalin had come by the apartment aiming to force his little lover to take a break.

Bilbo must have heard him enter the room, though given his heavy boots and Bilbo's sharp ears it wasn't a surprise, because he glanced over his shoulder. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, turning back to his paperwork.

"Just coming to check up on you," Dwalin said. He leaned on the back of the desk chair, peeking over Bilbo's shoulder to see what he was working on. Something about taxes. Boring. "Make sure you've eaten and such recently. I know how you can be when you get caught up in this stuff."

"I'll have you know that I just returned to work after taking a snack break," The Hobbit huffed, eyes never leaving the paper.

Dwalin eyed the mug next to Bilbo's elbow that attested to the recent break. It appeared to be the tea he usually drank this time of day. Before he could be stopped, the tattooed Dwarf snatched up the cup, downed half the contents in one large swig and proceeded to sputter and choke as the not-tea beverage burned it's way over his tongue, down his throat and into his chest.

Bilbo watched the burly Dwarf cough and pound his chest, trying to relieve the burning. "That was hot, by the way," he quipped.

"That was not your usual tea," Dwalin rasped. "It usually isn't that hot." And Dwalin would know. It had become a sort of game. Dwalin would steal Bilbo's tea cup when he wasn't paying attention and down most of it. When he went to drink from it next, Bilbo would be left with only the dregs in the bottom of the cup leading to him berating Dwalin while he fixed them both a fresh cup. He would mumble threats under his breath as he poured the tea, but there was never any real heat behind the words. It was all part of the game.

"That's because that was hot chocolate, not tea," the Hobbit informed the other man, turning back to his work. "It's typically served at a higher temperature than tea."

Dwalin frowned. "That's hot chocolate?"

"Yes, what did you expect?"

"I always thought it was called hot chocolate because it was spicey." Dwalin shrugged his shoulders. He'd heard some of his soldiers that had been mercenaries during the leaner years talk about spices from the East and South and how they were used in drinks and food. He'd never been one for spicey things though.

"Well, you can add cinnamon and the like to it, but I prefer mine sweet. So lots of sugar and bit of vanilla are just perfect."

Dwalin peered into the mug again, swishing it around a bit. "It was awefully sweet..." he trailed off, hoping the Hobbit would get his meaning.

Bilbo sighed as he set his quill down. "I'll go make you a cup. But then you have to leave me alone so I can work!"

Dwalin grinned. "You're the best," he praised and pressed a whiskery kiss to the other's bare cheek.


	7. Day Eleven: Warmth

What is this? A double update? I felt so bad for leaving you without anything for three days so I'm trying to make up for it. I'm hoping to get at least one more done tonight.

As usual, this is unedited. Let me know if anything major is wrong.

* * *

"It's too early for presents," Bilbo stated, more for his own benefit than Dwalin's. The giant of a Dwarf stood in front of the Hobbit, holding a brown paper package and he had no idea why.

Dwalin tilted his face upward, looking like he was begging Mahal for the patience to deal with Bilbo's endless questions that day. "Yes, it is," he agreed, looking down at the Hobbit again. "But you're in need of this now since you're going to Dale tomorrow." He shook the package a bit, urging the other man to take it.

Bilbo gave in and took the parcel. It felt soft and lumpy in his hands and didn't keep it's shape well. He glanced back up at Dwalin, taking in his expectant semi-glare before finally ripping the paper away to reveal cloth of a deep golden yellow color. It reminded him of the color of several of the patches on the housecoat he had been wearing when he opened the door for Dwalin, over a year ago. He pulled the cloth (wool by the feel of it) from the wrappings and unfolded it. It was a hooded cloak just his size with brass fixtures and lined on the inside with...

"Warg fur," Dwalin supplied as Bilbo examined the pelt. He immediately pulled the cloak away from his face, lips curling in disgust. The Dwarf scoffed. "It's been cleaned and brushed and cleaned again. Did it all myself. Skinned the beast in the days after the battle when..." he trailed off and Bilbo looked to the stone floor, gently rubbing the fur between his fingers. Those days after the battle, waiting for news about Thorin and his nephews, whether they would live or not, had been tortorous. Many of the Company had thrown themselves into menial tasks to take up as much of their time as possible; to give them as little time to think as possible. Bilbo had known that Dwalin had decided to help salvage whatever Warg pelts he could, but he hadn't known the Dwarf had kept any for himself.

Dwalin cleared his throat. "Anyway. Did it all myself like I said, so you know it's been done properly. Warg fur is the softest animal hide you'll find once it's been taken care of."

"It's lovely, Dwalin. Thank you." Bilbo rubbed the fabric between his fingers again, bringing it close to his face to examine the embriodery along the edges that he hadn't noticed before. Who ever had done it had managed to blend Hobbit and Dwarven styles well; depicting various flowers and ivy distinctly in the angular designs. "This had to have taken some time."

The warrior nodded. "I had it commishioned back when the weather started to turn. After that trip to Dale when all you had was one of those waistcoats of yours and that old cloak and hood I gave you at the beginning of the quest. Hardly enough to keep you warm during the winter months here."

"Oh," Bilbo looked down to his feet. "I guess I am unprepared for winter in the mountain. Last year there was no way to prepare and we just had to make due with what we had."

"You weren't making regular trips outside the mountain then either." Dwalin tugged the cloak from his fingers and swung it around, settling it over his shoulders. Bilbo could already feel the warmth seeping into his skin as the Dwarf did up the fastenings for him. Then he stood back and observed the effect. "Aye, that'll keep you warm. Don't you worry, I'll make sure you don't freeze."

It amazed Bilbo sometimes, how Dwalin could say such simple things and still manage to take his breath away. It had been so long since he had felt so cared for, so loved. He realized then, just how hard he'd really fallen for the gruff, brute of a dwarf who was so thoughtful and kind and gentle and patient. In a moment of spontaneity, Bilbo went up on his tip toes as he tugged Dwalin down by his beard and pressed a firm kiss to his lips.

"Thank you."


	8. Day Sixteen: Jumpers

I'm a terrible, terrible updater. I'm so sorry. And I'm very busy this week getting ready to fly out to Oklahoma on Friday so I don't know how many more updates I'll get done this week. I'll try to write on the drive down to the airport Thursday and on the flight so I might get a couple done. But after that I'll be at the in-laws' and I have no idea how much computer time I'll be able to manage out there. Christmas is just a very busy time of the year. Especially when it's the in-laws' turn.

Come poke me on Tumblr and tell me to get off and write when you see me blogging things I shouldn't be! .com that's me!

As usual this is unedited so if you find something major let me know.

* * *

Dwalin scowled and pulled at the collar of the jumper he had been forced into. The Company were all sitting down to a private holiday meal in the royal dinning room. The room wasn't exactly meant to hold this many people and with the extra body heat added to the fire blazing in the hearth made it near unbearable. As it was, Dwalin could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow and running down the dip of his spine. It made the already itchy sweater cling to him and he kept pulling it away from his skin to stop the uncomfortable feeling.

"Would you stop fiddling?" Bilbo hissed from beside Dwalin.

"I can't help it," Dwalin grumbled back to him. "This damned jumper itches."

"Oh now, hush." The Hobbit waved a fork at him, jabbing with it to make his point. "That is a lovely jumper and Ori put a great deal of time and effort into making them all."

He had indeed. And when he had presented them all with their sweaters the day before, expressing his wish that they all wear them to the dinner, all the dwarves had cringed and immediately started to think of ways to accidentally destroy the things even as they told Ori that they would of course wear his gifts. It wasn't that they didn't like the idea of wear jumpers. It was that for Ori to have had time to make fourteen of them, he would have had to use the coarse, scratchy, badly died yarn that was available months ago before the good stuff was shipped in. Bilbo and Dori were aware, of course, of what the rest of Company truly intended to do with their sweaters and were quick to inform the group, once Ori had left, that if so much as a stitch had come undone before tomorrow night's dinner, then they would not enjoy the consequences. It had been Dori's knuckle cracking that had convinced them more than Bilbo's glare, though that could be frightening in it's own right.

So there they all were, sitting around the heavy wooden table laden with dishes of delicious savory food, almost every single one of them fiddling with their jumper in some way or form. Dori and Bilbo glared around the table at them all, aware that none of them wanted to wear the sweaters and were grumbling about them under their breath. Dwalin had already several elbows to the ribs from Bilbo for expressing his displeasure at the situation and he continued to receive them throughout the rest of dinner.

As soon as it was acceptable to do so, Bilbo excused himself from the dinner table to return to his rooms. Dwalin followed him out, intending to walk him home as usual but found that he actually had to speed walk to keep up with the Hobbit when he usually had to watch his pace so as not to leave Bilbo behind, what with his shorter legs and all.

"Something wrong, Bilbo?" Dwalin called out to him, thinking that maybe he had forgotten something and that was why he was in such a hurry. But he got no answer. Just a bark of sarcastic laughter as Bilbo quickened his pace.

Dwalin managed to catch up to the Hobbit in front of Bilbo's apartment, just in time to almost get a door slammed in his face. His tightly controlled temper flared to the surface in retaliation to Bilbo's attitude.

"Now that's it!" Dwalin growled as he shoved the door open, bouncing it off the rock wall with a resounding crack, and stomped his way into the room. "Just what is your problem?"

Bilbo huffed his way around the room, straightening up books and moving things around. "Well, go ahead." He waved an arm at Dwalin as he rushed by, shooting the dwarf a glare. "Get rid of it. Throw it away, unravel it, burn it, toss it off the battlements; whatever you were going to do to it last night before Dori and I had to threaten you to wear it just once for poor Ori."

Dwalin stomped after him. "Stop avoiding the damned question, Bilbo," he demanded.

"You're too busy trying to figure how to get rid of the thing to even think about how much effort went into doing something nice for you. Oh no. Just because it isn't made from the best," Bilbo's rant continued as if he hadn't even heard Dwalin speak. "All Ori wanted was to have a nice dinner with everyone, but no. It seems we can't have that. And don't think he didn't notice either. He spent the entire dinner asking Dori why everyone was so tense."

The Dwarf stared after Bilbo, who disappeared into his study for a moment, only to return with a brightly colored bundle that he promptly dumped into the trash bin next to the fireplace. "I don't understand what this damned sweater has to do with you being angry at me."

"Of course you don't," the Hobbit scoffed. "Can't expect a dwarf to appreciate something that isn't made of gold."

"Oi!" Dwalin hollered. "That was uncalled for!"

But he needn't have pointed that out. Bilbo had frozen as soon as the words left his lips and now he was scrubbing both hands over his face. With a deep sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry. That was very rude of me," he apologized, voice thick and gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

"Bilbo?" Dwalin prayed to Mahal that his little Hobbit wasn't about to cry. Yelling and screaming, he could handle, but crying? He'd never seen Bilbo cry, but he didn't think he would have any defenses against it.

There was a distinctive sniff before he answered, "I think I'm just going to head to bed. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Dwalin."

That was clearly a dismissal but it felt wrong to leave while Bilbo was obviously upset and without resolving their argument. Dwalin would at least like to know what had triggered the spat. But the smaller man was already heading for his bedroom door, a defeated slouch to his posture. "Oh, erm...Goodnight then."

Dwalin turned to go and happened to glance down at the garbage bin full of balls of yarn in vibrant reds and blues and warm grays. He pulled one of the balls from the can and with it came a set of knitting needles and a an expanse of patterned, knitted, wool. The cloth was soft and smooth between his fingers, nothing like the itchy jumper he was wearing now.

"I didn't know you knitted," he said, turning back to face the bedroom.

Bilbo froze in his doorway and sighed. "I don't. Ori's been teaching me for the last month."

"And you've been knitting me a jumper," Dwalin guessed quietly.

Bilbo sniffed again. "I-it's just you work so hard." Even though he facing away from him, Dwalin could tell from the slumped shoulders and bowed head that Bilbo's emotions had gotten the better of him and he had started to properly cry. He stuttered and sniffed every few words. "Helping Thorin and training guards and organizing them and patrols and overseeing the army and making sure we're all safe here. And somehow you still make time to commission a lovely cloak for me and to make sure I take breaks when I'm working and-" he wrapped his arms around his torso "and taking care of me. I j-just wanted to take care of you too."

At that declaration, Dwalin dropped the mostly finished sweater on the floor, crossed to room to stand behind Bilbo, and wrapped his arms around the Hobbit where ever they would fit, pulling the smaller man against his bulkier body and burying his face in blonde curls. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said that, aside from Balin, and damn near brought him to tears too.

"But when Ori gave you that jumper and you looked so..so...so disgusted, you couldn't even thank him properly. I thought of all the work I'd been putting into that sweater for you and how you probably wouldn't even appreciate the meaning behind it and I just got so upset."

"I'm sorry," Dwalin said into Bilbo's hair. "I'm sorry. I should have-"

"No you shouldn't have," Bilbo interrupted. He couldn't let Dwalin take the blame when this could have been sorted out with just a bit more communication. "I'm sorry. I should have just told you why I was upset. I just...I want to take care of you like you take care of me. You deserve that. But I don't know how."

Dwalin pulled away and gently turned Bilbo until they were facing. He swept the pads of his thumbs over bare cheeks, wiping away tears much the same way Bilbo had done for him during the Lukhud Siginbult. "But you do take care me," he insisted. "How many people would let a grisly old warrior like me cry like a babe on their shoulder? Who brings me biscuits and scones and tea between meals so I won't be so hard on the new recruits because I'm hungry and irritated? Who listens to every detail of my rants about idiots? You do take care of me, just in your own way."

Bilbo's lip quivered just a bit but it seemed he was finally done crying so he pulled away from Dwalin's hold enough to blow his nose in his handkerchief.

"I can't remember the last time someone has been so devoted to me," Dwalin said, pulling Bilbo back in and pressing their foreheads together. "Besides Balin, of course. Thorin is my best friend and even he will brush me off when I get going on one of my rants."

The hobbit tangled his little hands in the hair at the base of Dwalin's skull. "Everyone needs someone."

"Aye. I'm glad I got you."

"And I'm glad I have you."

* * *

The ending is cheesy, yes I know. But I went into this without much of an ending planned and then I had to rush to get it done before midnight and it just ended terribly. I wanted to add some about Dwalin asking Bilbo to finish the sweater but he'd have to wait because Bilbo kind of ruined it and all his yarn by throwing it in the bin with the ashes and he'll have to have more yarn shipped from The Shire so it's going to take months before he can make another one. And that's why Bilbo's was so much softer than Ori's. When the Ered Luin dwarves made the trek to Erebor, a few were asked to stop by The Shire and pick up some things for Bilbo. His cousins put together a care package for him and some yarn was included. Apparently they forgot that he couldn't knit. Oh well.

Anyway, thank you soooo much for all your comments and favorites and follows. They mean so much to me and it makes me so happy that at least some of you are enjoying these little ficcy thingies.


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